


You are the Air I Breath

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Injury, Nursing, caring for one another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after the collapse of Bog's castle except both he and Marianne were caught in the rumble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are the Air I Breath

**Author's Note:**

> goldenwerewolf asked for:
> 
> Either Marianne or Bog nursing the other back to health after being sick/hurt. Fluffy AND angsty! Mostly fluffy. Please, if you have time.

Bog walked along the darkened hall in the fairy castle. His movements were slow, pained as he found his way through the small hallways. He was headed toward the room where the love of his life, where Marianne was lying deep in a fever that was slowly killing her. She was unconscious still, now two days after his fortress had fallen. He moved haltingly, his left arm in its sling, was pressed against his body. It throbbed as he moved; the bone inside was shattered, held now by tight bindings to help it heal, but even the slight movement of his walking made it bump against his chest which sent rushes of hot pain up the arm and through the tips of his fingers. The ache was so deep at times that he would give anything to take the arm off, but right now he ignored it. Another pain was his focus, the pain in his chest as his heart threatened to shatter. As Bog came closer to his love's room, he could see the outline of his mother and Dawn. They were waiting for him by Marianne's door. 

“How is she doing?” he asked quietly, afraid for the answer, afraid he would not be here when the time came. Griselda sighed, her heart heavy. She looked smaller, older and worried. “She is delirious. The infection has spread, but she is fighting it.” Dawn's eyes were huge with unshed tears as Bog pressed his lips together. “Can I see her?” Griselda patted his undamaged hand. “Of course, don't be silly. But don't wear yourself out either. You still have a slight fever yourself. You do not need to be hurting yourself taking care of her.” 

Bog frowned in disagreement. “Mother, she needs me! I cannot give her less than what she needs from me.” 

Griselda frowned in return. “I understand dear, but if you want to help her, care for her, you have to care for yourself too.” Dawn stepped toward Bog. He just stood there staring down at her, his expression so sad, so pained, Dawn slowly put her arms around his waist laying her head against him, careful of his arm. “She will be alright, Bog. I know it. My sister loves you. She will fight to get back to you.” She repeated, “I know it.” With his good hand Bog gently patted her head, then stroked her hair. Dawn bit back more tears, but tightened her grip around him before letting him go. 

Bog used his good arm to open the door and moved inside the curtained room. The room had that heavy feeling of sickness and injury as he moved and quietly closed the door. He turned to look at her and could see her fragile form in the flower bed. She looked so small with the blankets around her. As he walked closer, he could see her almost glow in the dim light. She was frighteningly pale and even the hint of her wings beneath the blankets were a pale lavender instead of bright purple. Her eyes were moving frantically beneath her lids and as he stepped closer, he could see the flush along her cheeks of the fever that threatened to claim her. 

There was a chair waiting for him. He had been spending a lot of time in the chair these last two days. The chair itself was too small for his long form, but he never seemed to notice. He sat and reached out to take her hand that peeked out from the blankets. He held it gently in his rough one. He could see the hint of the bandages around her left shoulder that moved down over her torso. The blood had soaked through again, but it seemed much less than yesterday and even less than the day before when his castle had collapsed. Both he and Marianne had been trapped. He had tried to save her, but he had failed to get her out. Only Dawn had escaped. Marianne was here because of him, hurt because of him. 

Bog lowered her hand as tears threatened. He choked for a moment as he used his good hand to cover his face. This was his fault, all of it. He could not live with out her, he could not bare to keep breathing if she was not here. Marianne lay there, drifting between life and death because he had failed her. He swallowed, but tears still leaked out of the corners of his blue eyes and ran freely down his cheeks to drip off his chin as he kept his face covered, letting the sorrow over take him. 

\------------------------ 

He was leaning on his knees, his face covered, crying softly. He did not see Marianne groggily open her eyes as drops of sweat slowly made their way down her face. She had trouble focusing, but then she saw Bog as he sat by her bed crying softly to himself, his face concealed by his long fingered hand. It took a great deal of effort, but she reached out and lightly touched his knee, her fingers mostly just grazed him. Bog startled at the feather touch, his eyes widening so much that if she had felt better she would have found it comical. His voice was hoarse, his eyes red from crying as he gasped, “Marianne! Oh, my Marianne!” 

Bog dropped down on his knees beside her bed, ignoring his arm as he grasped her hand and pulled it softly against his chest. He leaned close enough to her that she could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. She smiled weakly, her skin still too pale and her amber eyes looked dull, but she was awake—the fever had broken. Bog leaned in and kissed her forehead, then her cheeks before he put a light kiss across her lips. “What do you need?” 

She smiled weakly. “A drink?” Bog moved so quickly he almost hit the bed as he rushed over to the table where a pitcher of water and a small fairy cup sat. One handed and with difficulty, he poured the water, spilling a bit, but then he came over to set it down next to her while he used his free arm to help her sit up. One handed, it took some effort, but he moved the pillows to lift her and then held the cup for her. She reached up and covered his hand with hers as she sipped the water. She dropped back exhausted, but with a thin smile on her lips. 

Bog put the cup down, his hand shaking with emotion as he dragged the tips of his claws so gently down her face that she almost didn't feel it, such a soft caress against her skin. Her eyes drifted closed and soon she was asleep, but this time the fever was broken and her sleep was more restful. Bog felt himself go weak and he collapsed back into the chair. He watched her for a long time, watched the rise and fall of her chest. He finally leaned over her, stroked his fingers along her chin, his thumb hovering over her slightly parted lips so he could feel her breath, assuring himself that, yes, she was alive and breathing normally. She was going to pull through. 

\---------------------------- 

The next day Marianne was sitting up in bed. The bandage had been changed and was now fresh and white again. There was a slight bit of color in her cheeks, but she was still weak and pale. The door creaked and she looked over, a smile spread across her face as she saw Bog enter. Bog came in holding a tray, one handed, as he used his shoulder to push open the door. When he saw her awake and sitting up, his face beamed with delight. He sat down in the chair by her bed, carefully placing the tray down and getting ready to feed her. Marianne frowned at him. “Bog, I can feed myself.” 

Bog narrowed his eyes slightly and spoke in his best kingly tone, “You need to lie there and let me take care of you.” 

Marianne looked pointedly at his arm. It was wrapped in a sling and bandages and was held tightly against his body, making Bog glance down at it then back at her. “You, my tough girl, are the one weak and recovering from a very serious, nearly fatal injury. I am just fine.” He moved to pull a blanket around her shoulders and made sure it was tucked around her. Marianne made a face at him, which did even more to lift Bog's spirits and assure him that she was really recovering, but then Bog was shoving a spoonful of broth in her mouth. She wrinkled her nose at him, but smiled as she swallowed. 

\----------------------------- 

The next morning Marianne woke up to the smell of flowers. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked several times to see that her room had become full of flowers over night. Most of the blooms came from the dark forest, deep blue purples and midnight whites with a scattering of bright orange poppies and yellow daisies. She slowly pushed herself up as she looked around in wonderment. That was when her door creaked open slowly and she saw Dawn slip in. She grinned when she saw her sister was up. “Did you see all the flowers Bog had brought in for you!” 

“Bog did all of this?” Marianne looked shocked and Dawn laughed. “Yeah, he was out there ordering goblins all over the place. It was funny watching them scramble around gathering flowers, but didn't they do a good job?” 

Marianne blushed, her rosy cheeks standing out against her pale skin. “Why did he do all this?” Dawn gave her a look that said her sister had asked a silly question. “Well, he loves you and he wants you to get better.” 

“Where is he now?” Marianne looked to the door. 

A frown marred Dawn's usually happy expression. “He is seeing the physician. He didn't want to go, but his mother said a second opinion on his arm would be a good idea. And she threatened him, which was a bit funny and sweet at the same time” 

Marianne took her sister's hand, squeezing gently. “Tell me truthfully, how is Bog doing?” 

Dawn made a face. “Well, he keeps acting like nothing is wrong with him. Though I think he hurts more than he is going to admit. He is really focused on taking care of you.” Marianne frowned. “He is so sweet.” 

Dawn leaned in and carefully hugged her sister. “Maybe you should convince him to take a break. He has been supervising everything to do with you.” Marianne nodded, returning her sister's embrace. “I will see if I can get him to take care of himself.” 

Later that day, Bog came in carrying something cradled in his one good arm. He was exhausted and hurting, starting to look a bit pale himself, but he pushed it aside so that he could be there for her. 

She was lying on her side sleeping, so she did not hear him as he quietly closed the door. He laid the package at the foot of the flower bed, being careful not to disturb her. He then moved about the room, checking that the pitcher of water was full, pulling her blankets up to cover her shoulders, laying his fingertips against her forehead to check her temperature. It had risen a bit again, but nothing to be worried about, simply her body working at healing. He finally made his way tiredly to the chair and sat. His whole body seemed to collapse in exhaustion as he simply sat there watching her. A gentle smile graced his lips as he gazed at her. Her color looked somewhat better, but she still mentioned hurting when she moved. He stretched out his legs, adjusted to lean back and rest for a moment. He moved his broken arm to rest as comfortably against his stomach as he could make it and leaned his head on his other hand watching her. “You are so brave,” he murmured softly. “I do not deserve to be loved by someone like you. Oh, Marianne. Look what I did to you.” 

Bog closed his eyes in pain not sure what to do. He loved her so deeply, the thought of losing her had crushed him, but now he worried that his staying with her would put her in danger, make her life among the fairies difficult. He could already see the looks he received, fear, distrust and—from a few—outright hatred. Could he stay with her and doom her to that? It wasn't fair to her. “Maybe I should leave once I know you will make a full recovery?” 

He shifted position when he heard a whispered voice. “You do that and I will never forgive you.” “Did I wake you?” Bog came over and she shifted so he could sit on the side of the bed. 

“No, you didn't Bog.” She smiled up at him and he reached out to drag his clawed fingers through her matted, tangled hair. She smiled at his touch, closing her eyes briefly. “I loved the flowers Bog.” 

He grinned toothily, blushing slightly. “Oh, good. I brought you something for when you're better.” He turned picking up the package one handed and brought it around to set it on his lap. Marianne moved to sit up and he helped her as best he could. He handed the package to her and she slowly unwrapped it to find a thick wrist cuff of silver with an amber stone embedded in its center. It was beautiful and delicately carved, but there was something powerful about it. Etched along the silver were stylized primroses, thorns and and flowering vines. 

“Oh, Bog, it's beautiful.” 

Bog blushed as she put it on her wrist and held it up so that the dim lighting could catch the amber, which made it glint in orange and gold. “Oh, Bog. Thank you!” Her voice cracked just a little. 

He smiled looking down for a moment, embarrassed, but happy that she liked his gift. “I just...well, you deserved something special.” Marianne reached over to cup his face gently, tugging him toward her so that she could kiss him as she rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. He pulled back slightly, smiling at her, his eyes very soft as he gazed into hers. “You should get back to resting.” 

“Bog,” Marianne said with a shy smile. “Why don't you lay down with me?” Bog blinked in surprise. “Oh, no Marianne, you...no, that would not be a good idea.” 

Marianne made a face at him, a little bit of her old spunk making her eyes light up. “Bog, if you want me to rest, then you better get in this bed with me or I am going to get up and kick your ass.” 

Bog chuckled, but his eyes seemed lighter. “I want to see you try.” 

“Well, I have both hands and you are down one.” Marianne grabbed his good hand and tugged him toward her. He moved over to the side and she shifted so that she was on his good side. His legs hung off the end of the bed, but he managed to get comfortable as Marianne shifted to lay her head on his chest so he could also wrap his good arm around her shoulders. 

“Are you sure this is alright, Marianne?” He was very carefully holding her as if he was afraid she was made of glass and would shatter at his touch. She wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled in close, her head against his chest. Her voice was low as she spoke, a whisper against his body. “Bog, what happened—it was not your fault. It was Roland's. You tried to push me out of the way with Dawn, but I was not going to leave you. Bog, I love you. I love you so much that if there was a chance to save you, I was going to take it.” 

Bog looked down at the top of her head. He moved his hand up to stroke her hair. “I love you, Marianne. I just want to protect you.” 

She sat up enough to look him in the eyes. “Why don't we protect each other?” 

Bog smiled. “Fine, but you let me take care of you right now.” 

Marianne laughed softly. “As long as you let me cuddle with you.” 

Bog chuckled, relaxing, the pain of his broken arm lessened just by having her nestled against him. “I think cuddling will be good for both of us.” The only answer he got was the soft rhythmic breathing of Marianne asleep against his chest.


End file.
